Sherlock Versus Shuffle
by Kirby77DP77
Summary: Run for cover! The iPod has been set for shuffle in another over used challenge! And unfortuately, no one is safe from 'Everybody's Shufflin!


_**I do not own Sherlock or any of the songs below.**_

_**Sherlock versus Shuffle**_

_So this is the first time I'm doing one of these. I put my iPod on shuffle and went to writing! Please tell me what you think._

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><p>"<em><strong>I Want You" By Savage Garden <strong>_

Molly sobbed as she washed her beloved's empty coffee mug –black, two sugars- with a heavy heart. He would never love her… that she knew, but it was nice to hope that the tall feline-like man could feel for her, to want her. Was it so bad that she loved him? Is it bad that she had compassion for the cold, beautiful and ethereal figure in front of her?

Was it so bad that she wanted Sherlock to want her?

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><p>"<em><strong>Whatever You Like" By "Weird Al" Yankovic<strong>_

It was the end of the month again, the time in which money was tight in the world of John. Sherlock, being the spontaneous man he was, hated the end of the month, because his flatmate was always on a thin wire during those last few days of the being almost utterly broke and having to be frugal. John would explode at the slightest provocation, making the detective tread carefully on hot coals as he went through his day to day experiments. But then again, he really couldn't blame the poor, tight budgeted man.

After all, anyone would go crazy after having to go a week on Ramen Noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

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><p>"<em><strong>Never Let You Go" By Third Eye Blind<strong>_

John knew deep in his heart that he wasn't real, but there was an endless amount of happiness that overwhelmed him at the figment of his distraught imagination. He felt joy for the first time since his dear flatmate had- Well, you know. The soldier couldn't help but wait for the apparition of his best friend to return and deduce every moment that passed between them while they were apart. And he looked forward to it every day as he trudged through life with a heavy heart, however, the worst thing about his episodes of grief with his ghost of a friend was that everyone knew about the crazed conversations with the dead man, but even Lestrade never said anything to him. The soldier knew that it was because everybody at the Scotland Yard knew…

That John would never let his Sherlock go.

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><p>"<em><strong>It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas" By Johnny Mathias<strong>_

Sherlock watched with a warm glow in his cold little heart as he watched him mother and father hang the decorations for Christmas morning. Tinsel went up and the tree was perched near the fireplace that had a roaring flame that bathed the aristocratic room in warmth even as the snow sleeted down with frigid intentions. Christmas spirit was in the air for the entire family. Mycroft put up the lights, Mummy and Father bought thoughtful presents, and even little five year old Sherlock gave a beaming smile as he showed Mummy his decorations.

He led her out into the hall that was covered in his genius décor and the plump woman beside her son let out a scream. "SHERLOCK HOLMES! What is this?"

The munchkin like genius grinned a little wider as he looked at the hall that was smothered in glue and playing cards, about thirty-two hundred playing cards. Sherlock looked up to his mother with a cherub smile and giggled out, "Mummy, I decked the halls!"

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><p>"<em><strong>Rocky Top" By The Osborne Brothers<strong>_

_John I am being tortured. Please help._

_SH_

"Sherlock!" John screamed as he slammed his phone into his pocket and ran all the way back to the flat from Barts since he was to panicked to catch a cab. Adrenaline shot through the short man as he ran, and worst case scenarios flew through his head as the soldier dialed Lestrade's number and yelled quickly before hanging up, "Baker Street, NOW! Sherlock's being tortured!"

John sprinted, worry and fear coursed through him that only increased when an ear splitting screech of pain almost made him fall down the stairs to the flat. "Sherlock!" He screamed again, desperation clinging to his voice. The doctor kicked open the door and ran toward the screaming, but just stopped as he saw the weirdest thing he had ever seen in his entire adult life.

In the living room, was Sherlock chained to John's armchair with the Union Jack pillow in his mouth as a gag and-

Mycroft playing a banjo?

So that was the story how Sherlock was rescued from a banjo playing Mycroft by thirty-seven of Scotland Yard's finest while John just face palmed with a, 'You-Have-Got-To-Be-Kidding-Me' expression planted firmly on his face.

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><p>"<em><strong>You Don't Love Me Anymore" By "Weird Al" Yankovic<strong>_

"So how did you and Sally ever start dating?" His adorably idiotic (in the nicest sense of course) blonde flatmate asked with a tone of disbelief, "She told me you guys didn't last long."

Sherlock's lips quirked upwards as he looked John dead in the eye and replied, "I thought it was cute, the way she poisoned my coffee a little each day. In hindsight, it was probably not the best way to start a relationship. But then again, I am married to my work.

"And judging by the state of her knees, Sally is married to Anderson's floors again."

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><p><em>No banjos were harmed in the making of this fanfiction.<em>

_Any thoughts? Should I add more? Ideas? _

_kirby_


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